End of Story
by emication
Summary: Desmond shares more than his alcohol with Sawyer one night by a campfire. Jawyer and DesPen with S3 spoilers and speculation.


Title: End of Story  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: one-sided Jack/Sawyer, mentioned Desmond/Penelope  
Warnings: Season 3 spoilers and wishful thinking  
Summary: Desmond shares more than his alcohol with Sawyer one night by a campfire.

Two weeks since being back, since being let go, and Sawyer couldn't take it anymore. He'd stayed in his tent since returning to the beach, finding things still the same and yet so entirely different. They couldn't have been gone for that long but the hatch had been blown to pieces, Charlie's hearing was shot to hell, and Locke was back to being the great hunter, speech filled with philosophy and miracles and quotes about fate. There was this new big shot walking up and down the beach, telling people what to do, talking about building more permanent shelters since rescue didn't seem likely any longer. Sawyer couldn't remember seeing the guy before returning from the Others, and even now couldn't remember his name - not his real name, anyway.

It had only been a matter of hours before Sawyer decided to stay in his tent for as long as possible before needing to venture out for food or to take a piss before crawling back into the shelter, finding company in the books he'd managed to snag from the hatch before they left and it blew. Sawyer was sick of seeing the way everyone else looked at him - their curiosity as to what had happened to him with the Others, their anger that he was allowed to return, the doe-eyed sympathy he got from Kate, her eyes now seeming to be permanently moist with unshed tears. They had a right to be curious, wonder what had happened to him and Kate while they were gone. Neither of them said a damn word about the experience. Sawyer even knew they had a right to be angry; they hadn't liked him before and had no reason to like him now, especially since he had come back and Jack had not. Jack was the reason why Kate seemed to be giving him sad puppy eyes every time she saw him, sympathy because in the end it was Jack she loved, not him, and she felt bad that she couldn't have loved him, he who was there instead of he who wasn't. Sawyer didn't have the heart to tell her that, in the end, he didn't want her either.

The night was unusually cold because it had been raining all day, the wind enough to make Sawyer shiver as he put his black button-down shirt on over the short-sleeved one he'd been wearing, stepping out into the darkness to search for an unoccupied campfire to warm up by. Most of them had a decent amount of people sitting nearby, people Sawyer'd rather ignore, except for one that was farther away from the camp than the rest, a lone figure sitting with the firelight reflecting off the familiar contours of the glass bottle by his side. Sawyer could tolerate Desmond more than the rest of them, partly because the man hadn't been around long enough to hate him, and partly because even if he did hate Sawyer, he'd been deprived of human contact for so long that it didn't matter as much as it once might have. He wasn't as stir crazy as he'd been when his sailboat came drifting towards their beach all those days ago, but he still seemed to enjoy the shitty Dharma alcohol, currently chasing his demons away with the liquid burn of tequila.

Sawyer approached slowly, not quite sure if he really wanted to go sit with the other man, or if the other man even would be up for his company at all. He was about to turn back for his tent when the other man, who must have heard his feet plodding through the sand, turned and called out to him. "Only a pathetic man drinks alone. Come share this bottle with me, brother."

Sitting, Sawyer took the proffered bottle, taking a long sip and wincing as he swallowed from the tanginess of it, nothing like the smooth gold texture of good tequila on his tongue. It made his stomach warm, though, and after a few more pulls, seemed to be doing its job, starting to dull his senses and the pain of the last few weeks. "If a pathetic man drinks alone, what's two men drinkin' together?"

"Lonely." Not knowing what to say, Sawyer just watched Desmond's Adam's apple bob up and down as he drank the alcohol. "Loneliness is bearable until you meet someone that makes you realize how lonely you really were. And then when they're gone, you're back to be alone, think you should be used to it, but it's just the worst feeling in the world." He watched Sawyer with a sidelong glance while taking another long sip from the bottle, handing it over to Sawyer as he swallowed. "Who's making you feel alone tonight, brother?"

"I've always been alone," Sawyer said, more to the mouth of the bottle than to Desmond. He'd always been alone, but he'd never been allowed to feel it. Working cons, faking a relationship with a new woman, leaving that false happiness to just be by himself again, it would all just wear down at a man. To con, a man needed to be steeled against such emotions, against desiring them, and accept that these relationships were the closest to real ones that he'd ever have with anyone.

"Haven't seen my Penny in a long time. Not a day goes by where I don't miss her, wonder if she's waiting for me to return, or if she's completely given up and moved on. The love of my life Pen is, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for her. I'd die for her, if it came to that. Brother, you better believe it."

"If you love her so much, why did you leave?"

"Had to get my honor back."

Sawyer was dubious. "Your honor?"

"Man's gotta have his honor, brother, if he wants to be worthy of his girl."

"Guess a man's gotta have a girl to even bother wantin' honor," Sawyer muttered, lips partially enclosing the mouth of the bottle so he'd spoken more to the tequila than to Desmond. He'd never had a lick of honor in his life. Sawyer was sure that there were some who would argue it, but those few also didn't know the full truth about him. About how he betrayed Cassie, the one woman who had actually loved and trusted him, and how he'd killed a man just because Hibbs said he was a certain man. He'd crushed a frog in his bare hand in front of Hurley just to prove he wasn't getting as soft as some people thought he was, for crying out loud! He got Charlie to attack Sun so he was the only one who knew where the guns were. Sawyer wasn't worried about needing honor.

It didn't mean anything that he'd cut a new mast for the raft. Or that he told Jack about meeting his daddy in that hole in the wall bar back down under. Or that he'd intentionally blown the poker game to give up the meds. Giving up the guns had been much easier given the circumstances - revenge being easier for people to see on him than knowing when the right time was to be helpful.

Sawyer glanced over from the bottom of the bottle, noticing Desmond watching him strangely. "What the hell you starin' at, Blackbeard?"

"You do want honor." Desmond smirked lazily at the glare Sawyer sent his way. "And I think it's my turn."

"I told you there's no damn girl," Sawyer said as he handed over the tequila. He was starting to feel warm, flushed, and felt like the island was making him a pathetic lightweight that couldn't hold his liquor as well as he used to. "No damn girl."

"Doesn't have to be a girl, brother." This caused Sawyer to sputter, feeling half-tempted to stand and slug some sense into Desmond. The other man didn't even know him - hell, no one did. "You've been spending a lot of time alone since you got back. The others here...they talk. Say it isn't like you - that you're normally in the middle of things, always knowing what's going on, and trying to find ways to surprise someone in particular, sometimes with the good, sometimes with the bad."

"You're ramblin' on like a drunk fool, Scottie. I ain't tryin' to surprise nobody."

"Not even Jack?"

Sawyer felt like he'd been punched in the gut or like something hidden away in a deep dark place was slowly being revived. It didn't mean anything. Jack was someone that he could never hope to be. He envied Jack, the way people looked to him, the life he led. Sawyer just didn't want the other man to look down on him when he came by to bring water to the beach or check on Aaron. It didn't mean anything that he didn't want Kate but didn't want Jack to want her either. How he had dreams about the way Jack looked when Sawyer had said he thought of him as a friend to turn into a sort of nightmare of him and Kate walking back to the camps with Jack staying behind - it didn't mean a damn thing.

A really good con man could even trick himself. Sawyer supposed he was mediocre, at best.

Desmond seemed to realize he'd hit a nerve, a knowing smile gracing his lips as he took a long swill of the tequila. "If there was something I could do right now that would mean I got to see Penny again, brother, you'd better believe I'd do it. End of story. Nothing on this planet could keep me away from her. I've tried getting away from this island, and I've failed. I haven't given up hope, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. You, on the other hand, brother, can do something. You know how to get where you need to go. You just don't think you have any honor. You just don't think you're worthy." Standing with some difficulty from the alcohol and the softness of the sand, Desmond gave Sawyer a mock salute with the hand still clutching the bottle. "Have a good night, brother."

He left into the darkness, leaving Sawyer alone at the campfire and not even with the alcohol for company. He'd never taken his feelings for Jack seriously, but now with the realization, all the little things he did that he thought about later in disbelief, all the times he was nice or tried to make people like him or did something helpful and made him think he was growing soft, had something to do with Jack. Now that Jack was gone, he didn't even bother trying. Besides Jack, Kate was the only one who'd really given him a chance, and he'd pushed her away, as well. He'd need her help, though; he'd need all their help. They wanted to go get Jack, get him to come back. Sawyer needed to go get Jack to come back.

Just because Jack wouldn't return with them for Kate's sake didn't mean he wouldn't return for Sawyer's. Jack treated him like an equal, not like someone he needed to protect, and would actually listen to him. If that didn't work, Sawyer was certain he was a better kisser, and if somehow that failed, he could definitely pack enough of a punch to knock Jack out and drag his sorry ass back. Sawyer stood slowly, thinking about who was around that would be able to help and was sort of ammunition he might still have stored away if worst came to worst. It would be a long hike down and a long one back - even longer if Jack still thought it would be in his best interest to stay. Desmond may have been a drunk fool, but he was right. There was something Sawyer could do, and he had no reason not to. End of story.


End file.
